


multifandom drabble collection

by shikae (39smooth)



Category: EXO (Band), SPICA (Band), Team B (Band), Winner (Band), iKON (Kpop), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/39smooth/pseuds/shikae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuff that's on LJ that I never got around to moving over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. baekhyun/jongdae

**Author's Note:**

> baekhyun/jongdae, chinguline | pg-13 | 476 words
> 
> your otp playing strip poker (have taken creative liberty to swap poker for chor dai di)

“This was a bad idea,” mutters Jongdae, running his thumb over the edges of his cards. He’s holding a two of hearts, but he’s damned sure Baekhyun’s got the two of spades hidden up his sleeve. It’s never a good idea to pull out a card deck when Baekhyun is around. “Bad fucking idea.”  
  
It’s starting to get cold in the room. Jongdae shivers, and runs a palm down the side of his arm. He’s glad he’s only lost his shirt, so far. Kyungsoo’s far worse off, down to his shirt, boxers and socks, and Chanyeol with just his shirt and boxers. Baekhyun, that shameless little prat, he’s wearing just boxer shorts and socks and he’s grinning as if he’s already won the entire game.  
  
“If anyone, blame Chanyeol,” says Baekhyun simply, eyeing Kyungsoo as he contemplates between putting down one card or three or sweeping the round with a full house. “He’s the one who suggested strip big two.”  
  
“Strip  _da lao er_ ,” says Jongdae, shaking his head. “Never should have let Lu Han teach you all those gambling games that night.”  
  
Baekhyun flashes a grin, and lays down a king of hearts over Kyungsoo’s queen. “Your turn, babe.”  
  
“You call me that one more time,” says Jongdae, neatly flicking out the ace of clubs, and setting it over Baekhyun’s card, “and there’ll be nothing left for you to take off.”  
  
“Wouldn’t you just  _love_  it if there wasn’t,” purrs Baekhyun, reaching over to drag his fingertips down Jongdae’s ankle. Jongdae slaps Baekhyun’s hand away with his cards. Baekhyun pouts.  
  
“Stop,” says Kyungsoo, “no, for the love of god, do not initiate anything here. I will kill you with your own hand.”  
  
Chanyeol snickers. And he puts down a two. Kyungsoo follows with another two.  
  
_Seriously?_  
  
Jongdae huffs out a breath. “Come on,” he says, voice resigned. “Sweep it.”  
  
Baekhyun whoops, and practically throws down his two of spades, and lets go a straight to end his hand. Jongdae and Kyungsoo both groan, having the most cards leftover. Chanyeol’s safe again, motherfucker. “Take ‘em off,” says Baekhyun, and Jongdae’s about to pull off one sock, when Baekhyun continues, “pants.”  
  
“Fuck you,” says Jongdae, “I’m—not—”  
  
“He’s not wearing underwear,” crows Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo leans back against the bed to fold his palms over his eyes in agony.  
  
“Even better,” says Baekhyun, and he leans in to whisper, “Need a hand taking those off?”  
  
Jongdae’s throat goes dry.  
  
“You know,” says Kyungsoo, “this is absolutely horrifying.”  
  
“And you,” says Baekhyun gleefully, “shirt goes. Time for the world to see your long-lost nipples.”  
  
“I’ll fucking kill you,” says Kyungsoo, “Chanyeol, put the camera down. Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol.” In between the sounds of choking, Jongdae’s laugh soars. “You’re next, Baekhyun.”  
  
“Looking forward to it,” says Baekhyun, and he dodges the card deck box that’s thrown at his face.


	2. baekhyun/jongdae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baekhyun/jongdae | pg-13 | 263 words
> 
> your otp exploring each other

His touches are soft, his caresses sweet.  
  
The brush of his fingertips along skin seems almost like the imitation of worship. Slow, surrendering movements, the stroke of a palm over the curve of a hip. Jongdae presses his lips into the hollow of Baekhyun’s throat and kisses him, kisses at the little freckle that decorates his skin, kisses up along the side of his neck to suck lightly under his ear.  
  
Baekhyun’s fingers are tangled in his hair, threading soft, not wanting to tug too hard. Jongdae moves down Baekhyun’s body with careful motions. The slide of his hands along the backs of Baekhyun’s thighs. His mouth against the dip of Baekhyun’s shoulder.  
  
Jongdae wants to map out every little bit of Baekhyun with his hands, his mouth, his nose, his eyes. Jongdae wants to see Baekhyun with everything he is, with everything they are, in everything they could be. Jongdae wants Baekhyun, and he wants Baekhyun to know just how beautiful he is.  
  
And he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. He never has to. All he needs is to feel the soft touch of Baekhyun’s palm against his cheek, the lips that meet his own, and the corners of the smile that he allows himself to thumb over, light and easy. Their hands will twine, their fingers will thread together, and Baekhyun will kiss the tips of each one before their palms meet in their own kiss.  
  
“Hey,” says Jongdae, a breath against skin, and Baekhyun laughs, that beautiful laugh. “I love you.”  
  
Baekhyun lets out a soft sigh, content.


	3. baekhyun/jongdae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baekhyun/jongdae | pg | 675 words
> 
> christmas shopping

baekhyun has always been terrible at picking out presents.  
  
it's no wonder he drags jongdae out of the house to come along with him, even though jongdae's already done with his christmas shopping ("i did it all last week," says jongdae, eyes laughing, "you're just as slow as usual.") baekhyun insists anyway, and who is jongdae to refuse?  
  
they spend the day out, laughing and bickering fondly over prices and bargains, and more than once, jongdae finds that the urge to just reach over and grab baekhyun's hand, to just link their fingers together, is just so undeniably strong, and he ends up awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets to resist. but he can't, no, he really can't resist the smile that spreads across his face as he watches baekhyun point over the counter at something or other, the most ridiculously adorable look on his face, the way his tongue pokes out at the side of his mouth, eyes wide and blinking, cheeks tinged pink with the dropping temperatures.  
  
it warms him, even though the cold seeps through his shoes and socks and bites at his toes, but baekhyun has always been able to work wonders with him.  
  
"hey," says baekhyun, interrupting his chain of thought, and his fingers close loosely over jongdae's wrist. "whatcha thinking about, there?"  
  
"nothing." jongdae slides his arm up, catches baekhyun's palm in his, and presses their fingers together. "just you."  
  
the look on baekhyun's face is enough to melt a thousand winters. "yeah," he says, voice soft, "you too."  
  
the word  _love_  has occurred in his mind more than once. but, jongdae wonders, what does it really constitute? is it the thump of his heart beneath his ribs, that one-two-one-two rhythm that beats electric, faster, faster, faster? is it something in the air, is it something in the water? (is it something in the way people glance at each other?)  
  
maybe, thinks jongdae, it's the way baekhyun throws his head back and laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, those great, heaving laughs that make his chest ache and his hands curl into the skin of his knees. maybe, it's the way baekhyun smiles, when there's nobody but them, when it's just jongdae and baekhyun and the space between, when baekhyun reserves that tender smile, his smile, the smile that's for jongdae and no other but jongdae. maybe it's the way baekhyun touches him, fingers skimming along the length of his arm, coming up to rest the flat of his palm against his chest, moving in to ghost his hands along jongdae's neck.  
  
maybe it's just the way baekhyun is, and how baekhyun always is. annoying, loud, temperamental. stupid, annoying, and has he mentioned annoying yet? but jongdae, oh, jongdae wouldn't trade it for the world. baekhyun is perfect, even if he insists on the most ridiculous ideas ("let's build a treehouse!" baekhyun had said excitedly. a day later, jongdae found himself dabbing ointment on baekhyun's wounds, sniggering at the disappointed look on his face as baekhyun had witnessed the wooden planks collapse right under him.) and jongdae thinks, maybe this is love.  
  
love is the way baekhyun snorts coffee all over himself as jongdae laughs at him, love is the way baekhyun always, always, always smiles when his eyes meet jongdae's in a crowded room, or a room with no crowd at all. love is the way baekhyun mouths promises into his skin, right there and there and here, so right and so easy.  
  
maybe, jongdae thinks, this is love. them. baekhyun.  
  
baekhyun  _is_  love.  
  
"that's so sappy," says baekhyun, snorting, and jongdae reaches out to conk him over the head. " _ow_ , wait, don't do that!" baekhyun mock-whines. "i thought you loved me."  
  
jongdae leans in, catches baekhyun's lower lip with his teeth, licks into his mouth slow and warm and so very wanting, and swallows the soft exhale that escapes his mouth. "yeah," breathes jongdae, and he grins. "i do."  
  
baekhyun just shakes his head, laughs, and tugs him back into him, hands meeting, hearts binding.


	4. jinwoo/seungyoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinwoo/seungyoon | nc-17 | 1149 words | originally posted as a fill on yg_winnermeme
> 
> prompt: phone sex.

  
"Told you not to call," is the first thing Jinwoo says, on picking up the phone. Seungyoon probably should have expected that. Seungyoon rolls over the comic books that are on his bed, clutching the phone between his ear and his shoulder, reaching to toss his things aside haphazardly. "They're still here."  
  
"Forget about them," says Seungyoon dismissively. It's always hard to phone your boyfriend when they have a million relatives over for the holidays. Well. Technically, it's just four of his relatives, but having your cousins in the room right next door always puts a damper on things. "I'll just do all the talking, then."  
  
There's an airy chuckle that floats down the line. Seungyoon savours it while he can, having gone an entire three days without hearing Jinwoo's voice. Perks of having a hot older boyfriend: hot older boyfriend. Cons: college takes up a hell of a lot more time than he'd thought. "You do that, then."  
  
"Sure," says Seungyoon, and jokingly, he lets his voice drop low, "so, what are you wearing?"  
  
It takes a moment to register, on the other end, but there's a burst of laughter, before it's hushed quickly. "You call me at twelve at night just to attempt to talk dirty to me?"  
  
"Attempt isn't the word," says Seungyoon, pulling the phone away momentarily to switch sides, "I would  _totally_  do that. Also, why not? It's the best time of the night for it."  
  
"It's also the time of night where the entire house is about to go to bed," comes Jinwoo's murmur. "You're awful, you know that?"  
  
"If I really were awful, I'd start by telling you what I'm wearing instead." Seungyoon pauses for effect. "Absolutely nothing."  
  
"Liar," comes the word easily. "You never sleep nude."  
  
"Well," says Seungyoon, almost contemplatively. Would he really? "I could get naked right now."  
  
He swears he hears a pin drop. Then, Jinwoo's voice. "How would I know?"  
  
"Trust me," whispers Seungyoon, and oh, this is going somewhere, now. "You'll know."  
  
He places the phone on the bed, and slowly shuffles out of his clothes, dropping his plain old shirt and his only pair of jeans into a heap beside the floor, making sure he makes enough sound to be heard through the phone. It only takes a short minute before he's only in his shorts, and he grabs the phone again, bringing it back up to his ear to ask, "So. Guess what I'm wearing."  
  
Jinwoo's breath comes before his words. "Nothing."  
  
"Close enough," says Seungyoon cheekily, "One piece of clothing left."  
  
"Not going to take those off?" Jinwoo's voice sounds lower than usual. Still soft, though. Dangerously soft. Seungyoon swallows, just slightly. Yeah, this is  _definitely_  heading somewhere. He glances towards the door, making sure it's locked, before returning his attention to what Jinwoo's saying. "Hmm?"  
  
"Well," says Seungyoon, "I can't take them off until you tell me to, obviously."  
  
Someone's words hitch in their throat. Seungyoon isn't sure if it's Jinwoo, after hearing that, or himself, after saying it.  
  
Jinwoo's voice is much, much quieter than before. "Seungyoon?" he says, voice steady. "Strip."  
  
"Yeah?" Seungyoon's mouth feels dry, but he keeps himself talking, keeps himself focused. "I'm running a finger along the hem of my shorts, now... sliding them off..."  
  
"And," says Jinwoo, "I'm guessing you want me to tell you what to do next, then?"  
  
"Go on," says Seungyoon, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, "go on."  
  
"Then, you go on," says Jinwoo, easily, so easily that Seungyoon almost doesn't believe the next words that come out of his mouth, "touch yourself."  
  
Seungyoon hadn't expected them to really get to this point, but it's happening now. "Alright," he says, in response, as he slides a hand down, and lets his fingers curl in a familiar grasp around his cock, listening for the steady inhale, exhale, of Jinwoo's breath as he does. "I'm—I'm touching myself now."  
  
"Tell me about it," says Jinwoo, and Seungyoon bites his lower lip, "tell me exactly how you're touching yourself, Seungyoon."  
  
"I," says Seungyoon, "I've got my hand around myself." The build-up is steady, the movement with a little more friction than he likes, but it still begins a steady burn up his spine. "Touching myself the way you touch me."  
  
Jinwoo lets out a shudder of an exhale. _"God,_  Seungyoon." There's a pause, before Jinwoo continues, "Tell me what you're thinking about. Come on."  
  
"You," says Seungyoon immediately, letting his eyes close, "god, yeah, I'm thinking about you, Jinwoo."  
  
"Christ," whispers Jinwoo, and Seungyoon thinks about just how turned on Jinwoo sounds over the phone. He thinks about Jinwoo lying there in bed, his hand in his own pants. Touching himself to the sound of Seungyoon touching himself. That pretty hand around that pretty cock, thumbing over the head the way Seungyoon usually does when he jerks Jinwoo off. Seungyoon thinks about Jinwoo, making those soft little sounds in the back of his throat, and involuntarily lets out a sound of his own, quickening the pace of his actions.  
  
"Jinwoo," says Seungyoon, more of a moan than the syllables of his name, and Jinwoo sounds out of breath on the other end, "Jinwoo, talk to me, please, god—"  
  
"I wish I could see what you look like right now," comes Jinwoo's quiet admission over the line, breathy and hastily whispered, and it makes Seungyoon even more aroused, if possible, "I wish I could see the look on your face. Eyes closed, biting your lip the way you always do. Saying my name."  
  
"Jinwoo," says Seungyoon, and he's rewarded with a shaky groan from Jinwoo's end of the line. "Jinwoo," he repeats, low and drawn out, so fucking close to coming but all he wants to hear is Jinwoo saying his name in return. "Jinwoo, please."  
  
"Seungyoon," comes Jinwoo's voice, finally, so full of wanting that Seungyoon can hear it even from there, and it spurs him on to the edge. His movements falter, and he can't help the succession of cries that pull themselves from his throat, and it's through the haze of coming that he realises Jinwoo's come too, biting back a too-loud call behind the cup of his palm, but still enough to be heard through the phone.  
  
"Wow," says Seungyoon, blinking, before readjusting the phone that's slipped a little against his shoulder, "I hadn't been expecting that to happen."  
  
"Yeah," says Jinwoo, breathless. Seungyoon loves hearing him like this. Spent. Left even more wanting than before. "God, you're great."  
  
"I should be saying that to you, for allowing me to fulfill my long-time dream of phone sex," says Seungyoon jokingly.  
  
"Long-time dream?" repeats Jinwoo, close to laughing again, "thought that was becoming a world-famous singer."  
  
"Yes, well," says Seungyoon, "priorities."  
  
"And what, phone sex tops that list?"  
  
"Nope," says Seungyoon, "you do."  
  
He can practically hear Jinwoo's smile through the phone.


	5. boa/bohyung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boa/bohyung. 
> 
> part of the interhouse quidditch series!au.

it's always her. that same ravenclaw from her arithmancy classes. she always takes the back table in the corner of the library, a stack of books before her. her quill seems to never cease its effortless gliding across the parchment she's laid out on the table.  
  
boa busies herself with a book she'd randomly pulled out from one of the shelves, and continues to observe. not stalk. this does not constitute stalking at all. or, well, she guesses it doesn't. but it's harmless, really. harmlessly observing the way she absently pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with the back of her index finger, or the way she tucks the same strand of hair behind her ear every five minutes.  
  
observations. that's all they are. no ulterior motives whatsoever.  
  
mr. shim coughs lightly from behind her, and she nearly jumps. "i suggest you either sit down and stop blocking the runes shelves," he says, "or head for the exit."  
  
boa fumbles with her bag, and somehow manages to steer herself over to where the lone girl is sitting. "hello," she says, and when has she ever been this tongue-tied over someone before? "mind if i join you?"  
  
"oh, i. go ahead, i mean. it's cool." the stack of books is (gently) shoved aside to make space for boa's things.  
  
there's a slight pause before boa says, "i'm boa, by the way."  
  
"bohyung." the ravenclaw tugs her glasses off, and blinks. "did you want homework help, or something? that's usually what all the slytherins want whenever they come over to my table."  
  
"your table?" the words fall out of boa's mouth before she can stop them. bohyung flushes. "i mean--i'm not. i just. you're always sitting here and i just wanted to say hello."  
  
"oh." bohyung looks confused. it is an adorable kind of confused. boa decides she rather likes that. "hello, then?"  
  
well. maybe this isn't going the way boa had planned (she hadn't planned this at all, to be honest). but it's a start, at least. it's a start.


	6. yunhyung/bobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yunhyung/bobby. inception!au. warnings for explicit content.

_Don’t fuck around on the job,_  his very first mentor had told him, straight up, on the back of their first meeting. A cafe in Sinchon, the rain drizzling down around them as the crowd scattered about. He’d felt the water roll off the heels of his palms. He’d smelt the fresh aroma of the coffee in the cup sitting before him. Everything had been perfect.  
  
His mentor had meant it both ways.  _Don’t trust anyone. And down here? You can’t even trust yourself._  
  
He’s never been particularly good at listening. Bobby has wonderful hands.  
  
Those hands, curving along the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, pressing down the creases and sliding along the seams, lighter than anything. It hadn’t been a dream. They’d fucked each other right into the mattress of his own hotel room, two hours after a butchered job and one hour after promising himself he wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. Bobby had stepped in through the door, and smiled.  
  
It hadn’t been a dream. Bobby left bearing marks, and he'd stayed bearing some of his own. It had been a foolish move. He’d thought that’d be their last job together. Bobby had smiled at him, kissed the back of his neck, and left his phone on the crumpled pillow.  
  
Later, the phone had rung, the voice of their employer detailing a flight from Moscow to Tokyo direct. He never found out about the others. They’d taken separate flights. It had probably been for the better. He’d never found out what had happened to their extractor, the one who’d called them on the job in the first place. Still, probably for the better. They could never come close to his real team anyway.  
  
_Trust no one,_  his mentor had said, right before his mentor had shot him between the eyes.  
  
Yunhyung had woken up, heart seizing in his throat.


	7. jinhwan/hanbin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinhwan/hanbin. a cut from a longer fic. warnings for collar kink, minor d/s themes.

It is many weeks later, many weeks, when Jinhwan first presses a soft kiss to Hanbin’s forehead, just as he’s drifting off to sleep.  
  
Hanbin’s eyes open, and he stares up at Jinhwan, expression unreadable. Something lodges itself in Jinhwan’s throat, and he makes to move away, but then Hanbin catches his wrist, tugs him back, and the want is obvious in his eyes, the way he looks at Jinhwan with his lips slightly parted and his body angled towards him.  
  
“Can I?” asks Jinhwan, and the rest is implied, and Hanbin nods, benignly touching his fingertips to Jinhwan’s face, telling him to come closer, to close the gap, and Jinhwan does, pressing their mouths together in a warm kiss, chaste at first.  
  
Hanbin’s lips are soft and pliant, a pretty pink that curves under Jinhwan’s own lips easily, and it doesn’t take much to coax his mouth open, yielding to the hot press of Jinhwan’s tongue against his teeth, against his own tongue, against the roof of his mouth. Hanbin’s fingers curl into the back of Jinhwan’s shirt lightly, even as he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, a little hiccup of a moan that sends a sweet vibration through their mouths.  
  
He takes his time with Hanbin, takes his time learning the inside of his mouth, tracing every seam of his lips, learning how Hanbin shudders when he nips and licks and bites, when he tangles their tongues together, when he pulls away and presses light, smaller kisses, from the corners of his mouth to his lower lip.  
  
“Jinhwan-hyung,” comes Hanbin’s voice in a small whine, and Jinhwan kisses him even more, lazily licking into every corner of his mouth, tugging lightly at his hair, at the ring of the collar around his neck, and Hanbin makes more sounds, soft little whimpers, tiny gasping moans that shoot straight down Jinhwan’s spine. “Hyung, please.”  
  
“Hush.” It’s not a request, it’s not a question, and Jinhwan is surprised at how easily it slips from his lips. Hanbin goes silent, and he looks up at Jinhwan, eyes soft, surrendering. Waiting for what Jinhwan is going to say next.  
  
Something catches in Jinhwan’s throat, just looking at Hanbin being like this. Submissive is the word that comes to mind, but Jinhwan just swallows hard, and concentrates on what Hanbin wants, and what Hanbin needs, now.  
  
The pads of his fingers skim lightly along the back of Hanbin’s collar, just barely brushing along skin. There’s a visible shiver that runs along Hanbin’s spine, but the look in his eyes holds steady. Jinhwan rests a finger against the ring attached to the collar, and says, “Lie down, Hanbin.”  
  
Hanbin complies, and Jinhwan shifts over to straddle him, knees bracketing his waist as he leans down. There must be a hundred different emotions running through Hanbin right now, eagerness and nervousness piling up together to form a mismatched set of feelings. Jinhwan feels the very same way, too.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you again,” says Jinhwan, very softly, and Hanbin’s lower lip falls a little, as if just waiting for Jinhwan to close the space between them, “and I want you to tell me just exactly what you need me to do for you.”  
  
“Yeah,” says Hanbin, breathless, even though they’ve barely done anything, “okay, hyung.”Jinhwan rests his palms against Hanbin’s face, thumbs over his cheeks and the corners of his lips, before leaning in all the way again, mouths meeting. Hanbin has never really kissed anyone before, he knows this well enough, and it shows, his inexperience, it does, in the way he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands, eventually fisting them into Jinhwan’s shirt as they kiss languidly.  
  
Slow, sleepy, searching kisses, they share. Hanbin makes soft noises, every time Jinhwan skims his fingers along the collar, or down his front. Jinhwan wants to hear more of them, and the kisses deepen to a point where both of them are left with their chests heaving, and their inhales outpacing their exhales. Jinhwan almost doesn’t want to admit to himself how aroused he is. He can feel that Hanbin’s the same way too, just barely holding back from rocking his hips back against Jinhwan’s, even as Jinhwan shifts to kiss down his neck.  
  
“Hyung,” whispers Hanbin, and Jinhwan sucks a kiss under his ear, light enough that no one will notice in the morning when they’re sleep-logged and busy fumbling with their toothbrushes, but noticeable enough that Hanbin will be able to see it when he looks into the mirror to wash-up. “Please,” comes Hanbin’s voice again, softer. “Jinhwan-hyung.”  
  
Jinhwan isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be feeling the ache in his chest, the quiet tug that signals something more than he knows. All he knows for sure is that Hanbin is right here, saying his name, saying it with some strange new tenderness that he’s never heard before in his life. Maybe Jinhwan just wants to hear it again, for some reason.


	8. taehyung/jungkook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taehyung/jungkook. a cut from a fic. warnings for non-explicit crossdressing kink.

He watches those fingers curl over the tube of lipgloss. He watches Jungkook run the tip of the tube along his mouth, a soft, glossy pink. The colour of the sky last Thursday evening, when the sun had painted a trail in all sorts of hues.  
  
“Taehyung.” Jungkook’s voice comes quietly. “Could you help me with my shoes?”  
  
A pause, and a breath, before Taehyung reaches down out of his own accord, hooks his fingers into the backs of the little heels that stand beside the door. It seems too slow-moving to be real, this very moment. Jungkook, holding out a foot towards Taehyung. Taehyung, his left hand gently holding Jungkook’s ankle, the other one sliding the shoe on, first one, and then the other.  
  
And Taehyung straightens back up, finds himself standing way too close to not notice—to not notice the way Jungkook’s lashes have lengthened, the way his mouth looks under the light, the way his gaze bores into Taehyung as if questioning, wondering what he’s about to do.  
  
Terrifyingly quick, the pace of his heart runs, the complete opposite of the kiss he presses to Jungkook’s lips. Another breath, and another pause, and Taehyung’s hands are sliding up to splay gently across the sides of Jungkook’s neck, thumbing along the line of his jaw, even as Jungkook lets out the softest of sounds. He doesn’t pull away, though. He doesn’t push Taehyung away.  
  
Tugging away, barely tugging away, Taehyung nudges their noses together, and observes the way Jungkook’s eyes open, tiny blinks. “You look so pretty like this,” says Taehyung softly, and Jungkook’s mouth falls open slightly, breath hitching, “can I kiss you again, Jungkookie?”


End file.
